


In The Moment

by afteriwake



Series: A Different Path [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is tasked to find a missing painting with Molly accompanying him. Once the case is solved they take a little time to themselves at the museum and make a few admissions towards each other, leading to a new type of relationship between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Moment

**Author's Note:**

> This is another **land_deduction** Bingo prompt fill ("Painting") as well as an answer to an **imagineyourotp** prompt ("Imagine Person A of your OTP having a considerably longer stride than Person B, and Person B always needing to quicken their step in order to keep up").

Sherlock had to admit that going back to being a consultant had its good sides and its bad sides. He enjoyed the thrill that solving cases gave him, whether it was a homicide or something else. He found the years away from doing this had not dulled his skill in the slightest. He was probably even more knowledgeable now than he had been as a child and teenager, and it showed in his ability to solve cases quickly. And this time he was actually being recognized as being a consultant. The validation was very nice, he'd have to admit. Plus he didn't have as big an ego this time around, which made his interactions with everyone much easier than they had been in his youth.

But there were a few very big downsides. Word had gotten out that he had returned to his consulting job, and many media outlets began clamoring for interviews. He didn't want to give any because really, the whole media spotlight he'd had when he was younger had annoyed him to no end and he didn't want a repeat of those events. But Lestrade's superiors had strongly hinted that it would be beneficial for all involved. What he wanted more than anything else was privacy, and he wasn't getting it. For all he knew he'd start getting fans who had an unwholesome obsession with him and he'd have to deal with that on top of whatever game Moriarty was playing. But he dutifully played along, because if he made everyone's superiors happy then they would allow him to consult and he could fix any messes Moriarty's plans made as best he was able.

Today wasn't one of the days where he needed to think about it, though. He had been tasked by one of Lestrade's supervisors to find a missing painting. He'd been back at this for a month now and it was nice to have a case that wasn't a homicide. It added a little spice to his life. And today he had help, which was also nice. Molly had two days in a row off, and when he'd told her about his case she'd asked if she could come along. He'd thought about it for a moment and then nodded, and the grin on her face had been good to see. He liked it just about any time he could make her smile. In the last month he'd found he was actually quite fond of her, and he hoped she looked at him the same way.

They got to the art museum and he entered first. He was trying to quickly make his way to the curator to get the details and look at the scene when he realized Molly wasn't beside him. He stopped and looked behind him, seeing her walking even more quickly than usual. “Do I walk too fast for you?” he asked after a moment when she caught up to him, a slight frown on his face.

She nodded. “Sometimes, yeah. I mean, you have longer legs and so you take bigger steps. I can usually keep up, but not when you walk quickly yourself. So slow down a bit?”

He nodded and when they began moving again he walked at a more sedate pace. “I haven't been here in a very long time,” he said, glancing at the art and statues every once in a while.

“I come here as often as I can,” she said with a smile. “And if not here than one of the other museums in the city. I love going places where I can appreciate culture and history.”

“Do you go to the theatre as well?” he asked, pulling his attention away from the art to look at her.

She nodded. “I can't usually afford tickets to the good plays, but every once in a while I'll splurge on a ticket to a big production. It's nice to get dressed up and go out on the town and just enjoy myself. I usually go alone, though.” She paused. “It would be more fun with someone else, I think, but it's all right going by myself.”

“Don't you have friends who would go with you?” he asked with a frown.

“Not really. I'm friends with Sally, a bit, and one or two other people. But I don't have very many friends. I've actually spent more time with you lately than I've spent with any of them.” She shrugged. “I'd like more friends, but I don't really have the time to make any.”

“And we usually spend your free time working on one of my cases,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

“No! Don't be sorry!” she said, her eyes wide. “I love helping you with your work. I mean, I should probably do it less if I want more of a social life, but then I'd miss out on doing something I really enjoy. I mean, I'm not anywhere as brilliant as you are, but it's nice that I can help every once in a while, even if it's just a little.”

He stopped walking. “You're quite intelligent,” he said. “You're probably one of the most intelligent people I know outside of my former profession. You always bring up avenues of thought I had overlooked. Sometimes it even leads to a breakthrough in the case.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “I didn't think I've been all that helpful. I thought you were just humoring me.”

He shook his head. “I'm still getting used to having friends, but I had hoped I was doing a better job of showing that you are a very good friend.”

“I'm your only friend, other than Greg,” she teased.

“And Mrs. Hudson,” he pointed out. She chuckled slightly at that. “Let's try and get this case solved quickly so you can have some of your free time back.”

“All right,” she said with a nod.

They made their way to the second floor and met with the female curator, a man in a sharp suit and a young DI named Dimmock who were waiting there for them. “You must be Sherlock Holmes,” the curator said, extending her hand. He shook it, observing her as he did everyone else, and then he observed the other man for good measure. He knew within seconds this case would be solved in a matter of minutes. Ten, tops. “Let me show you where the painting was.”

“You might as well just tell me where you hid it,” he said as the five of them began to walk.

The curator stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. He looked at her for a moment, then glanced at the other man, who also looked wide-eyed. “You think _I_ stole it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I don't think. I know. I'll go visit the crime scene if you insist but that will just confirm my theory. It's best for everyone if you just come clean now.” He glanced over at Molly and saw she was trying not to grin widely.

“How dare you,” she said, her narrowed eyes becoming a full glare. Then she turned to Dimmock. “I demand he leave right now.”

“He's here because my superiors want him here,” Dimmock said, crossing his arms. “And from everything I've heard about him, if he says you stole the painting I'm inclined to listen to him.”

“Unbelievable,” she murmured. “I can't believe they've hired this two bit charlatan to make false accusations about innocent people.”

Sherlock shrugged slightly. “Let's go see where the painting is supposed to be, shall we? And then I can tell Dimmock here where to find it and you can be arrested and I can have the rest of my day free.”

“I refuse to play along,” she said, crossing her arms as well.

“Do you know where it was?” Sherlock asked Dimmock.

He nodded, uncrossing his arms. “Down the hall,” he said. He looked over at a uniformed officer. “Keep an eye on them. They're not allowed to leave,” he told him. The uniformed officer moved closer to the curator and the other man. Sherlock was glad to see she looked nervous now as opposed to angry. Dimmock nodded down the hall and the three of them began to walk. After a moment Sherlock realized both he and Dimmock were walking much faster than Molly and so he slowed his pace, and after another minute Dimmock noticed and slowed down as well. Five minutes later they got to a cordoned off area. “Here it is.”

Sherlock ducked under the tape, as did Molly, and he looked at the sign underneath the frame. Then he inspected the frame itself, pulling out his pocket magnifier. “The sensors weren't disabled at the source, and it doesn't appear the painting was cut out of the frame. Are the sensors on now?”

“I'm not sure,” Dimmock said with a slight frown. “Why?”

“I want to see how heavy the frame is,” Sherlock said. He went over and pushed the frame up slightly and then stopped. No alarm went off. “Molly, go to the other side and lift it up from the bottom.”

She nodded, then moved to the other side of the frame and pushed it up at the same time. The alarm still didn't sound. “Does each picture have their own sensor?” she asked as they got the frame off the wall.

Dimmock pulled out his notepad and glanced at it. “Yes. There's a code that can be keyed in at the control panel at the entrance of this wing to turn each one off individually. It was put in place that way so if a painting needed to be removed for whatever reason they wouldn't have to turn off the alarms to multiple paintings at once.”

“And how many people know the codes?” Sherlock asked as he began to put the frame back on the wall with Molly's help.

He flipped over a page of notes. “Three,” he said, looking at his notes on the second page. “The curator, her assistant, and the owner of this collection know the codes in this part of the museum.”

“The assistant. Male or female?” he asked.

“Male. He was the other person with us when you got here. If it helps, the owner of the collection is female.”

Sherlock thought for a moment. “I know what happened. I also know where to find the painting.” He inclined his head towards where they had left the curator. “I think we'll be done in a matter of minutes. Well, Molly and I will be. You'll have to go collect the painting and arrest the perpetrators.”

“There was more than one?” Dimmock asked as they began to head back down the hallway.

Sherlock nodded. “That frame was too heavy for one person to lift all on their own, so taking the painting was a two man job. Your culprits in the actual theft were the curator and her assistant, who I assume is also her lover.”

“How did you guess that?” Dimmock asked, surprised.

“I didn't guess. When I shook her hand it was sweaty and she had perspiration stains at the collar of her shirt and her underarms that had a distinctive odor. Stress sweat smells different than when you sweat because you were overheated, and I recognized the difference. That could be explained by the fact that a painting got stolen on her watch, but I watched the gentleman as well. He looked nervous in a way that boded for him being involved too. There are only a few reasons someone stealing something would trust a partner, so I narrowed it down to either money or love. Probably both. I won't be sure until I speak to them.”

“But why would they steal it?” Molly asked.

“They were hired by the collection's owner,” Sherlock said. “I saw the name on this wing of the museum, and I recognized it as a woman who has recently lost a sizable amount of her fortune through bad investments. She hired the curator and her assistant to steal the painting and offered them enough money from both the insurance payout and the money she would make selling it on the black market to have them be set for life. It's not the most important painting in the collection, but it is worth a small fortune and I'd assume it was insured for at least it's worth on the regular market. People on the black market will pay at least ten times more to add it to their own personal collections.”

“That's amazing,” Dimmock said, looking visibly impressed. “Where are we going to find the painting?”

“Most likely in the curator's safe. I doubt she's had time to deliver it to the collection's owner by now, so it should still be there in something to keep it safe. If not then I would check the residence of the painting's owner. To be honest, I rather hope they were stupid enough to deliver the painting to the owner already.” He paused after a moment. “Shall we go see?” Sherlock asked.

“I think that would be a very good idea,” Dimmock said with a grim smile. He quickened his pace, but Sherlock lingered so Molly could keep up.

“You really are quite impressive,” she said with a grin.

“Well, I will admit I was trying to impress Dimmock,” he said with a slight chuckle. “I only really get to do it once or twice with each person I work with.”

“I find it cute you take a joy in doing that,” she said, laughing softly. The two of them approached Dimmock and the two thieves but they hung back a bit. Dimmock was telling them what Sherlock had told him, and then the assistant tried to bolt but the uniformed policeman caught him before he got very far. “I guess you were right,” she said quietly.

“I knew I was,” he said with a nod. Then he looked at her. “Why don't we take a look around? I think this particular museum will be closed for a time as they look for a new curator.”

“Do you think they'll let us?” she asked.

“I think they'll be too busy retrieving the painting,” he said, nodding to where Dimmock was talking to the curator, who was hanging her head. “If we keep our tour brief I don't think anyone will mind.”

“I can show you my favorite things,” she said with a smile. “Most of them are on the first floor.”

“Then let's head down there,” he said.

They walked by Dimmock, who had his hand on the curator's shoulder and was leading her towards her office. They made their way down the stairs and instead of going straight they took a left. They walked into a room that had a lot of paintings and some statues. “These are mostly Degas' works,” she said. “I've always admired him as an artist.”

Sherlock went to one of the statues and walked around it, examining it. “He's quite talented.”

“This painting is my favorite,” she said, pointing to one once he looked up. It was of a ballerina. “When I was a young girl I saw photos of this painting. I wanted to look as graceful as that ballerina looked. I failed miserably, but there were times I thought maybe if I practiced hard enough I could be graceful like she was.”

“Why weren't you?” he asked once he stepped closer to the painting.

“I have two left feet,” she said. “And I'm a bit of a klutz.”

He turned to look at her after a few minutes of studying the painting. She had a smile on her face as she looked at the painting. “When I was a child I decided if I didn't end up staying a consultant for the rest of my life I wanted to play in an orchestra. I really had my hopes set on being the first chair violinist for some prestigious orchestra somewhere in the world.”

“You do play quite well. I mean, I only heard you the one time, the first time we worked together, but I was impressed.” She turned to look at him. “I actually was standing there for about five minutes before I knocked. I would have just listened longer but I thought we should get to work on the case sooner rather than later.”

“I could play for you, if you would like,” he said.

“That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed happily. She looked at him for a moment, then leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. When she pulled away she had a wide grin on her face. “I would love my very own concert.”

He had been surprised by the small act of intimacy. He had never really let anyone get close enough for any act of intimacy to be a possibility, however small, and yet he had let her burrow her way into his life and he found right now he didn't want to disappoint her. He didn't want to do or say anything that would make her unhappy. “Maybe we could do that today,” he said quietly.

“Then we should get going back on our tour,” she said, moving around him a bit. She took a few steps past him but after a moment he reached over to lightly grasp her wrist. She stopped and looked at him. “Sherlock? Is everything all right?”

“I'm not sure,” he said after a moment, not letting go of her wrist. “I don't want to make you unhappy.”

“Why would you make me unhappy?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“Not today. I mean, not just today.” He let go of her wrist after a moment. “Normally I am cool, calm and collected. I can have an air of indifference around me, even though lately I've opened myself up to being more social. You are one of the few people I would actually consider my friend. And I find I don't want to...disappoint you. I don't want you to not want to spend time with me.”

“You won't disappoint me,” she said reassuringly. “I like you a lot, just as you are.” She moved closer. “Where is all of this coming from, anyway?”

“I don't know,” he said with a sigh. “I am not a very emotional person. I prefer to use my intellect as opposed to feeling things. But you...you make me actually feel things. And I like your company. And I worry one day you'll tire of me.”

Her eyes were slightly wider than they had been a moment before. “Sherlock, do you think you might fancy me?” she asked quietly.

“I honestly don't know,” he said. “I just know I like having you near. I like being able to make you smile. And I don't feel that way about anyone else. I never have to this level before. So this is all fairly new to me and very...confusing. And I hate being confused.”

She smiled at him. “I get that feeling,” she said, stepping closer to him. She stood in front of him, and after a moment's hesitation she placed her hands on his chest. “If it helps, I think I fancy you. I like spending time with you, too, and I really like making you smile as well. I got the feeling you didn't do that much in your life.”

“No, I didn't,” he said quietly. He looked down at her, and hesitantly put his hands on either side of her waist. “So what do we do now?”

“You could kiss me, for a start,” she said as she looked up at him. “But only if you want to.”

“I've never kissed anyone before,” he admitted. “The few times I felt anything close to this I stuffed it down because it was messy and I hated messy. And while I still think this could get messy I'm willing to try with you.”

Her smile got bigger. “Then I could kiss you and we could see how that goes,” she suggested.

He nodded slowly. “I think I would like that,” he said quietly. She moved her hands up to frame his face gently, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It was a soft kiss, nothing demanding, but he found he enjoyed it. After a moment he pulled her a little bit closer, and in response she increased the pressure of the kiss before moving her hands back down, settling them on his shoulders. For a first kiss he supposed he wasn't doing that badly, he thought when she finally pulled away. “Was that acceptable?” he asked.

“It was more than acceptable,” she said with a nod, reaching up to caress his cheek slightly. “Did you enjoy it?”

He nodded, giving her a grin. “I did.”

“Then we can do it again,” she said. “Do you want to finish the tour first, though?”

“I would much rather kiss you again,” he said as his grin got wider.

“We can do that instead,” she said with a slight laugh before she leaned in again, kissing him softly. He wasn't sure he was doing it quite right, but she wasn't complaining and he was sure with more practice he'd get better. But at the moment he was forgetting about everything else except being there with her and being happy to be there with her, and that was quite a pleasant feeling, he realized. They remained like that for some time before they heard a throat clear to their side. She pulled away, surprised, and then they both turned in that direction.

Dimmock was standing there, a grin on his face. “Just wanted to let the two of you know we got the painting back and you were absolutely correct in how it happened,” he said. “But I can see the two of you are in the middle of something more important. I'll let you get back to that.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock replied with a nod as Molly began to laugh. Dimmock gave them a nod and left, and he turned back to Molly, who wore an amused grin on her face. After a moment he grinned as well. “I think next time we should do that where there's a little more privacy,” he said, moving his hands around to the small of her back to keep her close.

“Well, if that's the case I think we should head back to your home and I should get my concert. Then I can show you just how happy it's made me,” she said, pulling away from him. She reached over for his hand and grasped it tightly before leading the way out of the museum. He had to admit, he had not expected the day to take the turn it had, but he found he was quite happy regardless.


End file.
